


dance these streets to dust

by Crazymuggleinthestruggle



Series: arthureamesmonth [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26909758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazymuggleinthestruggle/pseuds/Crazymuggleinthestruggle
Summary: Arthur and Eames from Arthur's pov
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Series: arthureamesmonth [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1969252
Kudos: 10





	dance these streets to dust

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if the Irish is wrong. Please call me out if you catch it. 
> 
> This was posted on my Tumblr for arthureames month [ here ](https://arthureames-dumbassery.tumblr.com/post/631480212037795840/dance-these-streets-to-dust)  
> The prompt was: "in this day and age, really?"

Being with Eames was like catching a bullet in the leg. Instant. With effects that lasted forever. A silent throb at the back of his mind.  
***  
It started when they worked that job with Dom and Mallorie Cobb, really.  
Or maybe it started after their first job working together in Bouaké.  
Or maybe it started after the Inception job.  
It was the one mystery Arthur was never able to actually solve.  
That was false, though.  
He always knew it. Knew it the first time he saw Eames.  
***  
"I suppose you're the darling point man, darling?" 

"Uh- Yes. Yes, I'm _Arthur_. Going by your accent, you're Eames, I presume? The forger?" 

"Or maybe, I'm such an accomplished forger, I've tricked everyone into thinking I'm English." 

"That- _What?_ The forger is named Eames and you just told me you are the forger. Ergo, you are Eames." 

"Aha! You're correct there. However, in doing so, I also managed to tell you I'm actually Irish. Not many people know that, darling." 

"No, you didn't." 

“B’fhéidir gur tusa an duine is áille ar leag mé súile air riamh.”

 _(You might be the most beautiful person I've ever laid my eyes on.)_  
***  
Arthur never actually believed him. He didn't think Eames would only ever tell Arthur he's Irish.  
It was true, however.  
Arthur would realise it later. Too late.  
***  
The first time it happened they had just successfully finished a job in Vejle.  
The second time, it was Dehradun.  
There were many more times. Arthur remembered all of them.  
Vejle, Dehradun, Valladolid, Malta, Voi, Yaroslavl-  
***  
Arthur pretends like he can’t remember each and every detail. Arthur tells himself that he was drunk and fuzzy and he was only there because Eames is amazing in bed. Arthur pretends that their ceaseless banter is the only thing making him come back time and again. Arthur also pretends that he regularly comes back only because Eames is the best at what he does. This one isn't an excuse or even untrue, for that matter.  
Be that as may, it isn't the reason Arthur keeps tabs on Eames and notices his absence like a severed limb.  
***  
The last time they have this conversation is not so different than the first time they had it.  
"The first time _might_ be a bloody accident, second time an experiment, but any more than that is two times too many, you _fucking_ bahookie!" 

"You are abs-fucking-lutely free to believe whatever you want to, Eames. One thing you can be sure to believe is that I don't like men the way you do! What exactly do you think is happening here? Perhaps we are in a relationship? We are boyfriends? You want me to go to social events with you hanging off my arm like my personal showpiece? Or _MAYBE!_ We should move in together! Fuck like bunnies, produce wee little kiddiewinks and live happily ever after!"

"Petal, so much internalised homophobia? In this day and age, _really_? I can't seem to get to you." 

"Grow up, Eames. You're merely an itch that I casually scratch." 

"Well then, _Arthur_. This itch is not going to bother you anymore. And it would prefer it if you didn't come looking after it."  
***  
Arthur would remember the day Eames would say goodbye to him till the end of his days. He would remember it the same way he'd remember his weary sigh, his tight expression when he pinched the bridge of his nose. The unconscious tic that developed in his left eye when he went without sleep for too long. He'd remember Eames' eyes. Eyes that despite all Arthur would do to him, would never look at him with disgust or hate or anger. There was only ever pity and sympathy to be found and he'd hate himself.  
Not because he remembered it. Because he didn't have to remember it. It was his own folly that he wasn't waking up next to it everyday and instead was silently yearning and always remembering how it used to be.  
Most of all, he'd remember the whisper that Eames would direct at him just before he would vanish from his life forever. A whisper that could pass off as a prayer if Arthur read into it too deeply.  
***  
_"B’fhéidir go bhfuil an amharc siar agat le breathnú siar chun a fháil amach cá raibh tú, an fadbhreathnú chun a fháil amach cá bhfuil tú ag dul, agus an léargas a bheith ar eolas agat nuair a d’imigh tú rófhada."_

(“May you have the hindsight to know where you’ve been, the foresight to know where you’re going, and the hindsight to know when you’ve gone too far.”)


End file.
